|View single post by lostsocks|
|Posted: Thu Mar 15th, 2012 03:12 pm||
|The perils of being a river tour guide on a bank holiday monday at 3pm
I do not want
to give this tour.
Not this tour to these
hot, fat angry customers
sweating and burnt like deli counter ducks.
Noxious blobs who know their rights and have paid good money.
Who have freighted their cacophonous spawn in steaming trains;
Where they tortured a thousand commuters for a hundred miles.
Dragged all this way so that someone
(God, please, anyone)
Will shut their evil mouths
With culture, or humour, or slap-stick self harm.
They've paid good money
and they've found a voucher ten years out of date,
but they know their rights.
An offer waits (unspoken) because it isn't quite irony
If for just ten more pounds
they'd let me strangle the little bastards.
I'd let them use the discount voucher
(Which is out of date I'm sorry, I don't make the laws of time, this isn't a question of rights, for they know their rights, this is a question of physics!)
They'd save themselves the pain
of this tour.
That neither they, nor I, nor their brood of monsters
Wants to take.
On this aberration, the mandatory day of leisure.
Last edited on Thu Mar 15th, 2012 03:12 pm by lostsocks